


Rise and Fall

by Crypterion_Moon



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Humor, Awkwardness, Beyond the Fade, Bisexuality, Canonical Character Death, Coming Out, Fluff and Humor, Gay Sex, M/M, Multi, Rejection, Tragic Romance, Violence, life after death, somewhat canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-25
Updated: 2018-05-25
Packaged: 2019-05-13 16:48:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14752602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crypterion_Moon/pseuds/Crypterion_Moon
Summary: Darrian knows the world is harsh, unfair and for his people, dangerous. But if there's one thing he hates, it's being helpless. But eventually, he'll realize though he may fight against the odds, he can't defeat fate. Especially when it comes to the heart.Life for the dalish is simple, settle down, hunt, gather and continue the traditions of the Elvhenan, whatever is left of it from the days of Arlathan and then move on, and for Lumaril, that's all she wants. But all that is shattered when she allows curiosity to take over, the eluvian has taken Tamlen and cursed her. With the taint spreading inside her, she is as good as dead, until a Warden comes for her. Though her simple life is ended, while she still draws breath, she will continue searching for a way to find TamlenA series of disjointed chapters, detailing significant points





	Rise and Fall

**Author's Note:**

> I'll put it out there now, I don't want to bore you by outlining everything I did for this character so these chapters will jump and skip through the story. Also, I try to write the dialogue and choices as close to as I remember it but it will be different, either deliberately or otherwise.
> 
> Enjoy, and tell me what you think

Darrian was no drinker, and maker should he have not the last night. But Shianni always had a way of coaxing him into things, the overly spirited person she was. And being woken up by her was the last thing he wanted. He felt her bony fingers prodding and pushing at him, trying to tug the covers from his head.

“Wake up. Cousin. Why are you still in bed. It’s your big day!”

“Uggh...just...a little longer.”

Shianni giggled, pulling at the covers again, “Come on, don’t make me use cold water again.”

Darrian groaned as he rose out from beneath the thin blankets, Maker, his head hurt, bad. Shianni crossed her arms.

“You do know what today is, don’t you?”

“According to your breath, it’s get-drunk-before-noon day,” Darrian replied, his current mood for jabs reaching its peak, “Just like yesterday.”

“No, you idiot. It’s your wedding, you are getting married today! And Soris too!” Shianni was smiling brightly, almost too bright and Darrian had to shut his eyes and turn away, although that might be the throbbing in his head.

“And it wasn’t that bad last night.”

“Ten bottles, Shianni, Ten. I don’t know where you get your tolerance from but I certainly don’t have it. I thought I was going to die.”

Shianni pouted and began dragging Darrian from his seat on the bed, “Come on, you can complain all about it later, I came to tell you, your bride is here early. Nesiara is here!”

Darrian at once stopped and his jaw nearly dropped to the floor, struggling against her grip which was surprisingly sturdy and strong for her size and build, “Wait, what?!”

“She is really excited to see you!”

“Wait, I’m not ready yet!”

“Then get ready!” 

“No, I mean, I’m not ready yet, this whole match making business. I just don’t like the idea.”

Shianni sat down beside him. 

“You spent far too much time sitting on the roof thinking about it. You know we don’t have a choice because of what we are. It’s a miracle we get to have someone outside of our alienage at all, you know those shem, they can just one day, decide no more elves because of so and so. Who else are you going to marry?”

Darrian remained silent, thinking, always the broody elf she knew, the little upstarter from childhood. Gazing out at the stars wondering what was out there past these walls and if his mother is watching from the stars. She would have been happy to see him get married.

“Besides, I snuck a peek, she’s beautiful. There’s going to be music, decorations and feasting. Weddings are so much fun, you’re so lucky! ”

Darrian gave her a huff and smirked at her, “You just want to get straight to the drinking.”

She crosses her arms, huffing and pouting like an irritated cat but all amusement in her eyes. Falling into the familiar banter they usually shared when she interrupts his quiet moments at nightfall, her head popping up from the latch on the roof with a promised bottle. This was one of Darrian’s most beloved moments, amidst all the hardships in the alienage.  
At least with Shianni there, the first part won’t be so bad if he doesn’t go into full panic mode. He spotted the wedding clothes neatly folded on top of a chest, which weren’t any more reassuring than the thought of them. It would be really nice if he could have a choice in anything at all.  


"Alright, I'll stop teasing you and let you get ready, I need to go find the bridesmaids and my dress anyway, I'll see you soon. Go find Soris when you're ready."

Darrian nodded and gave her a little lopsided smile as she left. It took a few moments of steadying before he could finally make it across the room without looking like a drunk. After cleaning up, he stared down on the neat pile off wedding clothes that still lay in waiting. They seemed more intimidating than any shem bastard he'd had to fight and it took him a while before he finally found the courage to pick them up. As he pulled them on awkwardly, grumbling lightly at how tight it felt around he chest and lamenting how much he'd overdone his training. Well, he hoped it wouldn't put people off too much. All, including the elves themselves were used to them being skinny, borderline skin and bones, Tabris was a slightly better off than most, less so now but Darrian was taught not to waste anything, including time, resources and his mother's voice, teaching him all the tricks and techniques she had. Compared to most of the others, he was slightly better built, more defined which is useful for the work he usually does, he'd mostly hide under the rags of an alienage citizen. These clothes, however, we designed to be a little more flattering, hence the closer cut and finer tailoring.

"Hmm, a little tight I see."

Darrian spun around a little too quickly, forgetting he hadn't fully recovered yet. Thankfully, his reflexes seemed to be returning otherwise he'd be a heap of elf on the floor, tangled in his wedding clothes. His leg kicked back behind the other and his body dropped to a crouch, the closer to the ground the less likely he was to trip backwards.

"Very good, but don't tell your bride what your mother taught you, we don't want to come across as troublemakers too soon, now, can I help you with that?"

"Uh thanks." 

They both pulled and yanked lightly on the clothes until they'd finally complied, much to Darrian's embarrassment. He felt like one of the girls who always needed assistance getting her hair and dress done. Cyrion stood back and examined their efforts with an amused expression.

"Well, you've done well hiding your hard work, son, but I'm afraid, today, you'll be putting on a show."

"Andraste's-," Darrian cursed, twisting around to look behind him, "You have to be joking."

Cyrion was laughing, for a while. Indeed, his behind was...well defined for anyone to see. If any other elf was wearing it, they could have at least got away with it being slightly more fitting but this was almost too skintight for his liking. Maker, this was already turning out to be a horrible day.

"This was yours?! You fit into this then?!"

"Let's just say, I wasn't as motivated to spend my energy swing anything other than the sweeping brush then."

"I can't do this, there is no possible way I can go out there and meet my betrothed. Like this!"

"Oh sure you can, just don't say too much."

Cyrion ducked behind the wall for a moment, reappearing with a pair of very familiar boots.

"Here, something I know your mother would want you to have, and I think she'd agree it would go well with your outfit," he said, handing Darrian her boots, the ones he could still remember her wearing before she died. His heart ached slightly, emotion and memories flooding back strong enough he could almost catch her scent, her laughter. His father did not miss the change.

"I miss her too, son," he said as Darrian held them, trying to not cry before the actual wedding, curse it, this always gets him. He finally smiled and began to put it on, both turning out to be a rather perfect fit. Just then a thought came into his mind which incidentally, Cyrion managed to say out loud.

"You always have such small feet, that or Adaia's were bigger than most women's.

Darrian shot him a horrified look and held up his hands, "Alright, no, I can't do this, I am going to die of embarrassment before the guards or disease takes me."

"Oh, stop with the dramatics and go, I won't have you and Soris try to escape, now go meet your brides!" he said as he pushed the young man out the door, "I have other things to do, now don't delay."

Darrian stood outside the door staring at it for a good while contemplating climbing his way back in and hiding in the rafters. Then he heard the whispering and some giggling around him and realized, he was in his wedding clothes.

Leaving the house, evidently made it much worse, Darrian’s sensitive ears picked up whispers of his wedding travelling around. If there was one thing he hated, it was gossip, especially gossip about him. But maker was she pretty, Nesiara, as he come to know, was every man's dream mystery bride as Soris had put it, skin as fair as her pale blond locks. So pretty in fact, he was worried she might end up bitter like Elva, married to him, he barely batted an eye at his appearance, favoring practicality over vanity. Shianni and Soris loved teasing him over it, how he'd scare off all the women with how bad he looked and smelled at times especially after a hard day's work with no energy to clean up. But as she set her eyes on him, she gave a pleased smile. At least he didn't seem to awful on his big day and she definitely...looked down. But didn't comment like the other women other than giving him an approving look, talking to her for a bit, she seemed nice.  
Still, he would've liked to at least know her better before being bound for life to someone he'd just met.  
Still, his mind wandered, with the worry of the arl's son and the strange human who'd wandered in seemingly looking for something or someone, his gut was doing flips. Something was going to go wrong and he didn't know if he'd be thankful for any opportunity to put off marriage or scared of what could happen to his people.  
When the time had come to walk up to the stage where his bride waited, he didn’t care how beautiful Nesiara is, he wanted this whole display to end. An hour ago.  
The bitch Elva glaring out at him among all the bright hopeful faces was painfully awkward, still unable to get over her rather unhappy marriage. Though he wasn't quite sure what she expected from him for her to glare at him so much.  
Soris beside him was trembling, at this point, his comment about his mousy bride could be applied more to him than Valora. He always had such trouble with nerves.  
Unhelpfully, Darrian decided to lean over while his cousin was preoccupied with looking away and whisper.

“Your knees are shaking,” he teased.

Soris nearly jumped too far and off the stage, which went mostly unnoticed with everyone's attention focused mostly on Valendrian as he spoke with ceremony. Soris turned to glare at him ineffectively.

“Darrian, are you trying to have me make a fool of myself?!”

Darrian shrugged and replied with a far too innocent grin, “Just pointing something out.”

Finally, they were called upon and both men joined their brides side by side, ready to say their vows. Suddenly someone screamed and they all turned to see Vaughan, the shem bastard who'd intruded upon their alienage earlier. With a bandage over his temple. Right where Shianni broke a bottle over. Behind him a whole squad of guards maybe a dozen or more. And he was angry, almost mad with rage but when he spotted the wedding taking place, there grew a glint in his eyes that sent chills through Darrian. This did not bode well. The revered mother overseeing the wedding cried out in outrage.

“Milord! This is a wedding!”

“Sorry mother but, I'm having a party, and we're dreadfully low on female guests, if you want to dress up your pets and have tea parties that's your business, but don't pretend any of this is real.”

He turned towards the crowd of elves looking on in horror, “Now! We're here to have a good time, aren't we boys?”

The ugly one standing uncomfortably close to the bridesmaids snorted like a pig, “Yeah, just some fun with the ladies.

Vaughan scanned the crowd like a butcher picking which lamb to slaughter, finally pointing. Darrian cursed over and over in his mind, why the hell wasn't the revered mother doing something, why couldn't those guards listen to her? Were they so false in their faith that not even the words of a respected member of the Chantry meant anything to them? 

“I'll take those two, the one in a tight dress quite a lovely body, and where's that bitch who bottle me.”

Excited yelling from the other ugly bastard who had Shianni, struggling uselessly in his grip. Darrian had to ball his fist from going at his eyes.

“Let me go you shirt-stuffed son of a-”

Vaughan cut off her threat with a laugh, “Oh, I'll enjoy taming you. And see the pretty bride.”

He turned his gaze on Nesiara, and Darrian stomach dropped, damn it, he actually wished Nesiara wasn't so beautiful, it would have saved her this trouble. Damn it all. He stood in front of her trying to look somewhat imposing and failing. The noble bastard peered down at the elf for a terrifying moment before letting off a roar of laughter.

“I remember you, clever for a knife ear but your silver tongue won't help now, I have a party to throw and I really do need some ladies to complete it.”

Suddenly, he seized Darrian by the chin, taking the elf off guard as his eyes went wide. Face tilted up while Vaughan examined him disturbingly close. In the corner of his eye, Darrian could see his father moving towards him. He turned slightly in the tight grip, sending Cyrion a look, stay back.  
Vaughan hummed in appreciation.

“Though...I could extend the invitation to you as well, quite a pretty one yourself.”

Collective gasps of horror echoed through the gathering, the very thought of it, such an undignified thing to befall a woman much less a man. Nesiara clutched at his arm, squeezing, scared for her groom. As much as Darrian wanted to just stand and stare daggers at him, his mouth was already running off.

“Oh, that's a bold statement, what would you father say?” he bit back.

Vaughan chuckled darkly. Oh crap oh crap, Darrian though, that didn't work as well as he'd hoped.

“I'd say he wouldn't care, in fact I could as him to hire you as my, **personal** servant. All things behind closed doors yes?”

Darrian had to grit his teeth, oh how he wanted to bite those filthy fingers off, “Not even in your dreams.”

Kendells hand left his face, suddenly gripping a handful of his chestnut brown hair. Darrian winced as he was yanked back and let go, left stumbling.

“Well, don’t worry, this invitation is ladies only and I’ll be taking your bride, I’ll make sure to return what’s left before the honeymoon.”

At that, one of his goons sidled up to Darrian back-handing him hard enough to send him backwards. He could hear the begging and screaming and helpless whispers as his consciousness faded.


End file.
